Pranayama
by Lovelihead
Summary: Inhale. Exhale. Right foot. Left foot. Ziva David comes to realize that the simple mantra means more to her than she'd ever known. Cartagena, memories of Tali and the type of Tony/Ziva communication we all love.


**Author Note:**

****I don't exactly know what prompted me to write this. I find that, more often than not, I should just not question my muses and go with the flow because they're fairly lazy and only decide to spit out an idea about twice per year.

I listened to _'Healing Katniss_' From the Hunger Games Score while I wrote this so if you want to youtube that and listen to it while you read, it might help you get the right feel and emotion from this piece.

Anyway, much love... enjoy.

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><p>Inhale. Exhale. Right foot. Left foot. It's the steady mantra she recites in her mind each morning as she runs her three mile route along the Potomac. If she were at home right now she'd probably be donning the orange beanie given to her by Roy so many years ago, but the heat in Colombia is unrelenting. She'd come to know her way around Cartagena fairly well after she'd spent many months there with Monique as a child. She'd always seen it as her home away from home.<p>

She'd been unable to sleep the night before due to a nasty argument she'd had with Monique regarding the case. So, lost in thought, she'd sat beside her hotel room window nursing a cup of tea and staring intently at the street below for hours that night before she could muster up the nerve to get to her feet. Just as she'd raised her fist to knock on the door to Tony's hotel room a barrage of self-preserving thoughts made her take a step back and return to her room to change into her running gear.

Even at five in the morning she felt the warmth from the rising sun wash over her skin. She could smell a hint of ocean air, carried to her by the breeze that tickled her cheeks. With each step she took she could feel the earth beneath her feet; solid, yet somehow much more yielding than the tarmac back home.

Slowing to a walk she turned toward the beach, guided by the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Peering up at the sky, she filled her lungs until they burned. Tasting the salt on her tongue, she smiled.

Being there brought back so many pleasant memories; memories of Tali. As children they'd spent so much time in South America with Monique, who had acted like the Mother they'd never had. She'd taken care of them when their own Father could not.

Ziva and Tali had spent so many days of their childhood dancing on the beach as the sun set on the horizon, causing the ocean to burn orange. Ziva remembered trying to teach Tali the correct way to perform a pirouette which had just ended with her collapsing on the sandcastle village that they'd spent four hours building that morning. Ziva smiled as she remembered how much they'd laughed that day.

She still remembered taking a trip there mere months before Tali's death. Ziva was well and truly a vital asset to MOSSAD by that point and Tali, well Tali was as self-assured as ever about her future.

"_Ziva, let's just stay here," Tali had breathed into Ziva's ear as they sat together on the beach, Ziva's head resting on Tali's folded legs so she could play with her hair._

_Ziva laughed throatily but it was only to clear the lump forming in the back of her throat, "Talia, you know I cannot do that." _

_Tali was silent for a long minute as she braided and unbraided Ziva's hair. "I am always so worried about you when you are gone."_

_Ziva buried her toes in the sand but just as she was about the speak Tali took a long shuddering breath._

"_Father is trying to convince me to join MOSSAD after I finish serving in the army," her voice was low and Ziva suspected that was only to stop it from sounding so shaky, "I do not want to, Ziva, I want to stay here. I want to learn to salsa dance and work in a café and spend every sunset down here at the beach tasting the salt on my tongue and being happy."_

_Ziva sat up then, spinning to face her sister and grab her hands, "You will, tateleh, you will get your dream." _

"_But I want you here with me. I want you to live passed the age of 25, Ziva," Tali's tone was beseeching, "I want you to be carefree and happy too."_

_Ziva broke eye contact for a moment and allowed the corners of her lips to creep up into a smile as she looked at their interlaced fingers, "I will be alive, I promise."_

_Tali took a moment to gauge the sincerity in Ziva's eyes before she broke into a grin and tackled her sister to the sand and laughed. _

Ziva broke out of her reverie and kicked off her running shoes as she slumped to the sand below her feet, watching the calming ocean stretch for miles. Two months after they'd returned from South America, and one month after Tali's sixteenth birthday, Ziva had received the news of her sister's death. She couldn't help but wonder whether things would have turned out differently if she'd made Tali promise to stay alive, too.

Ziva could hear the sand shifting beneath his feet long before she hears him speak, "Hey Ziva."

"Tony," she tilts her head to watch him collapse to the sand beside her with a groan, "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't," he says, "I just decided to go for a walk and I saw you. What are you thinking about?"

His words give her the impression that he's been watching her for quite some time.

"Tali," she smiles sadly, deciding to go for honesty because that's how things have been with them lately and it's been so easy.

He doesn't respond but she can feel the concern radiating from his body mere inches beside her… or maybe that's just the warmth that's so _Tony_ that she has to resist the urge to rest her heavy head against his shoulder.

"We used to come here a lot as children; there are some nice memories on these beaches."

He still doesn't respond but his silence compels her to continue.

"Dancing, running, talking. Mostly it was just somewhere to escape MOSSAD, and my father… but it was nice," she presses her lips together and looks up at the sky, "It was happy."

He has that same intent look on his face that he threw at her in the elevator after Mike Franks' death. It's reassuring and makes her know she's safe, but it also eats her up inside. She sends him a smile to reassure him that she's okay but he keeps watching her.

"You never talk about her," Tony murmurs, and he's right. It's just too hard.

"I think about her a lot though. She'd be proud of me, I think," Ziva smiles fondly and stretches her legs out in front of her, turning her face toward the sun. "All she wanted was for me to quit MOSSAD and be happy."

Tony's gaze snaps up from where he's watching her fingertips bury into the sand, "Happy," he says and his tone makes her wonder whether it's a comment or a question. He pauses.

They both know she'd deflected the question when he'd asked her whether she was happy the night after her dispute with Ray.

She nods, understanding what he means. "Having Gibbs, McGee, Abby and _you_," the long pause she takes after saying this makes his heart ache, "I have no reason _not_ to be happy. It's all I could ask for."

He nods, biting his cheek in thought.

She watches the profile of his face as she asks quietly, "Are you happy?"

He turns to meet her eye and see's something within them that he can't quite decipher. Hope, maybe.

The corner of his lip twitches down in thought and he raises his eyebrows, exhaling heavily through his nose. "Yes," he nods.

"I mean," Ziva speaks quickly," It's possible to be happy, but still feel like something's missing… right?"

"It's only natural to feel that way, I think," Tony responds, "But I've learned that there's no point in letting those things detract from your happiness. They'll happen someday."

"Yeah," she agrees and allows the conversation to lull into silence once more.

Moments later he feels the soft weight of her fingertips trailing down his arm before she weaves her fingers through his. He folds his fingers over hers and squeezes them lightly as they watch the sky turn from a deep orange to a soft blue.

Inhale. Exhale. Right foot. Left foot. Ziva realized at that moment that the simple mantra she'd been repeating every day really could reflect on all aspects of life. If you just keep breathing and you just keep moving forward and you remain happy… everything else will fall into place, someday.

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p>

The title 'Pranayama' is a Sanskrit word meaning "extension of the life force". It's used a lot during yoga and refers to breathing and the drawing out, or extension, of breath.

Thanks again!


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